Sick with Rage
by waiting-4-hope
Summary: With Vogler still around, awaiting his decision, House gets sick and becomes the patient. Someone’s going to quit today, and it’s not Cameron.
1. Late for Work

Chapter One: Late for Work

House woke up to hear the phone ringing, again. He wished that Cuddy would stop ringing him about the damn speech. After a few more rings, it was obvious that she wasn't going to give in. House grabbed the phone, irritated. His leg hurt.

"What?" Came his reply. "I know you have feelings for me and calling me four times is sweet and all…"

"House, it's 10:34am! I don't care if you're sick or not, you're crawling in to do that speech for the students," Cuddy shot back, angrily. If House was in front of her, she'd probably be fuming and probably a little red in the cheeks. House snickered at the image. His leg gave an unusual sharp jab of pain which caught his attention.

"House?" Cuddy asked.

"Yeah, I'm coming." And with that, Cuddy muttered a "good" and hanged up.

The elevator made its familiar ding.

House limped in and stood next to Dr. Wilson who noticed his presence.

"You're here late," Dr. Wilson said with a sigh. " And you look like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed…"

"Crap."

"What?" Dr. Wilson asked.

"Feel like crap." House replied, and leaned against the wall of the elevator.

"Vogler's going to watch you like a hawk, you know," Dr. Wilson said as he looked at his friend, concerned. "Especially after that "speech" you did to the public…"

"Yeah," House replied, about to pop some Vicodin in his mouth but stopped. "He said something along the lines of 'I'll destroy you'"

The elevator made the ding again and opened up. Cuddy was waiting there with her arms folded. And boy, did she look furious!

"It's 11:52am, House." Cuddy said, glaring at House. "You're late."

"Whoops, sorry." House replied, sheepishly as he and Dr. Wilson stepped out of the elevator. "Traffic."

He got another jab of pain in his leg which intruded on his talking. He put his hand on his thigh and held it there. He let out a shaky sigh as his face went slightly pale. Panic appeared on Dr. Wilson and Cuddy's face.

"I'm okay." House concluded. "Don't get so worked up about my bum leg…"

Cuddy and Dr. Wilson exchanged glances.

House managed to walk into his office without being seen by Vogler. He slumped onto his chair and leaned his head onto the chair. He remembered that he had to take some Vicodin to handle the pain but instead, he fell asleep.

There was a sudden slam that stirred a sleepy House.

Must be Vogler.

"Go away, Vogler…" House mumbled, his eyes slightly open.

"Hey, Hey!" Came a familiar voice. "House, I'm not Vogler!"

House realized that his eyes were just drooping there and opened them to see Dr. Foreman standing in front of his desk. He sat up and looked at the file in the arms of Dr. Foreman with a note clipped onto the folder. Cuddy's writing.

"Another case?" House asked, shrugging off the thought about the note.

"Yeah," Dr. Foreman looked at the note to see if he had even noticed it yet. "Cuddy sent me a note to keep an eye on you."

House just mumbled something incoherent and limped to the door with his trusty cane in hand. With his hand on the door, he looked at Dr. Foreman expectantly. "Gonna come or not?" Dr. Foreman nodded and followed him.

House was about to walk out, ready for a challenge when all of the sudden, his bad leg immediately disobeyed to go any further. It reacted angrily with a huge thrust of pain through his thigh, causing House to stumble against the glass door and slide down. He held onto his thigh as it began to throb, painfully. He let out a small unsteady gasp. Dr. Foreman already got Dr. Wilson and Cuddy. House closed his eyes and later, he found himself in a bed and connected to all these machines. He heard a monitor beeping away.

He figured that he must've passed out.

Just great.


	2. Anger

Chapter Two: Anger

House looked at his leg, the pain in his leg began to fade very slowly. It was still strong, he didn't get it. It never really got so bad that he'd need morphine for it. How he wished he took some damn Vicodin before and then maybe, he wouldn't be here. He'd be solving another case instead of making it easy for Vogler to add another thing to his bad list about him. He disliked that man as much as he disliked him.

Over the next few days, House was getting irritated at being treated like a patient and wanted to work on that case he didn't even get to put a finger on. He was proving to be a very difficult patient by appearing in places around the hospital - particularly where Chase, Cameron and Foreman were instead of the bed. Cuddy even had to mention restraining him since he did it so many times.

House opened his eyes and looked around the room. Empty. Good, the way it should be. He was about to sit up when there was a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't…even think about it, House." Came a tired voice from Dr. Wilson.

"Oh jolly, it's Dr. Wilson!" House responded, cheerfully. "What brings you here?"

Dr. Wilson raised an eyebrow at that tone. He couldn't tell if House was being sarcastic or just plain cheerful.

"What on earth did Cuddy give you?" Dr. Wilson asked, in bewilderment. House leaned back on the pillow. Since Dr. Wilson was there, he couldn't possibly get away now. Dr. Wilson noticed that House was pouting.

"Oh, you want to get out of here, don't you?" Dr. Wilson asked, eyeing House carefully. "Cuddy's thinking about restraining you and I'd hate to see that."

A very loud crash startled Dr. Wilson. The table that had breakfast on it over House's bed landed onto the floor, making a mess. House struggled against the cords and managed to get out of the bed until Dr. Wilson rushed to him and put his hands on House's shoulders, to hold him back.

"House!" Dr. Wilson said, sternly. "Just sit on the bed, don't do anything stupid - you'll hurt your leg!"

Dr. Wilson felt intimidated since House's face was right in his.

"Let me go," House breathed, angrily.

Dr. Wilson didn't understand why House was angry all of the sudden. Was he angry because of Cuddy? Vogler? Having to fire someone? It didn't make any sense to Dr. Wilson and he hated it. House struggled to get free of Dr. Wilson's grip. He became more aggressive and violent.

He called for some nurses to come in, they came in and held House back onto the bed. He struggled back with them and tried to give himself off the bed again. The nurses had no choice but to restrain him. One got sedates and injected it into House. His violent thrashing against the restraints slowly wore out, his hands that were fiercely clenched loosened as he groaned a little and closed his eyes with his chest rising and falling. He was out.

Dr. Wilson was left shaken by the situation, House's anger would've never gotten that far. He was still puzzled about what set House off. He went off to find Chase, Cameron and Foreman who were probably expecting House to appear any moment behind them.

A few hours later, House woke up groggily. He slowly looked around the room, more than twice. Empty. He couldn't be stuffed trying to get out of bed this time, not after what happened before. He could just remember it. He winced at the thought of hurting his friend Dr. Wilson, unexpectedly. House looked at his arm and saw a restraint there and tried to tug at it with his other arm until he realized that that arm was on a restraint as well. He let out a sigh, he had really screwed up now.

For a minute, he thought of getting some kid to undo the restraints for him but the odds of that would be little.

He felt anger boil up inside. He didn't know why he felt so angry. Was he angry at himself? He didn't want to think, he just decided to go to sleep again since there was simply nothing else to do.

House had no idea that he had slept through half a day. Sunlight peaked through the curtains and stirred him in his sleep. He moved onto his side and slowly woke up to find that the restraints were gone. It was probably Dr. Wilson who did that.

He had to go, he was dying of boredom and it didn't help that his leg wasn't getting any better. What the hell is going on with his bum leg? House pushed the sheet off, carefully getting the drips out of him an limped over to his cane to try and get changed into what he wore to work.

His leg was being a pain now, he searched for his Vicodin in his jacket. It was gone. Damn, Cuddy must've took it. House headed out of the room and looked at the elevators. If he took the elevators, there was be a very good chance that he'd run into Dr. Wilson or Cuddy and that wouldn't be very pretty. There was only one other option to get to his office.

The stairs.

He stared at the stairs that were there before him. His leg begged him to go no further. He started to go up the stairs and made almost made it to his floor where his office is, his leg screaming in pain. He noticed that one of the doors opened, a little gasp escaped and it shut behind him. Shit. A nurse must've seen him. He moaned, Cuddy will be on his back about this. He quickened his pace up the stairs to his floor, his leg throbbing with pain. He opened the door with ease. To his dismay, Cuddy was there.

"What…are you doing, House?" Cuddy said, trying to remain calm.

"Going to office." House replied, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"Why? House, you're in no condition to work…," Cuddy sighed and continued to block the door from House.

House had heard that line too much and it was getting on his nerves. Quite frankly, he couldn't give a damn about his leg hurting - he just wanted to do what he loved doing best.

"Just…please," House said, almost desperate. This took Cuddy back. "Just let me sit in the office for a while, it's killing me sitting in that bed…"

Cuddy gave in. "Fine, but if I find you doing work," Cuddy warned. "You're going back to that bed."

"Okay." House said, waiting for her to get out of his way. He realized that she was staring at him.

"What?" House asked, his nerves sky-rocketing.

"Don't you want your Vicodin?" Cuddy said, handing House the little orange container.

"Don't need it," House said, gruffly and limped past Cuddy. Cuddy turned around and watched House limp to his office.

"You're doing this because of Vogler, aren't you?" Cuddy asked loudly. She had to, he was halfway down the hall from her. House stopped dead in tracks.

"No-one needs a drug addict running around the hospital, do they?" House said as he quickly limped back to her, ignoring the fact that his leg was screaming out in pain. "Should I get treatment as well?"

"House," She said, sternly. House shrugged it off and went back to his office once again. Once he got inside his office, he slid down the door behind him, letting out small gasps from the pain. Little did he know, Dr. Wilson was watching him.


	3. Had Enough

Chapter Three: Had Enough

House pretty much slept until lunchtime in his comfy chair. For a few minutes, he watched the hospital from inside his office. Cuddy was walking around, with a worried expression on her face. He saw Cameron, Chase and Foreman pass his office a couple of times and a whole bunch of other nurses running around, doing their job. He even saw Vogler lurking around for a while, probably either wanting to "destroy him" or wait for him to fire someone.

There was no way he could fire anyone so another option hit his head. Maybe it wasn't a smart thing to do, but it could get something off everyone's chest. _Yeah, _he thought. _I'll just do that. _

He got up from his chair, grabbed a few boxes and sat it on his desk and he sighed deeply.

Dr. Wilson noticed House was moving around in his office and went in to find boxes filled with House's stuff. House was packing up stuff, rather in a irritated way, too.

"What are you doing?" Dr. Wilson asked House who sighed.

"Take a guess," House said, pointing to the boxes. "I quit."

"What…," Dr. Wilson was struck by confusion. "Why?"

"Is it because of Vogler? Cuddy restraining you? What? What is it, House?" Dr. Wilson asked again, his voice rising and almost sounding almost frantic. House paused and stopped packing at the tone.

He looked at Dr. Wilson who looked so confused at the situation, he didn't see this coming at all. House leaned in close towards Dr. Wilson.

"I'm quitting for the sake of…," House paused, feeling awkward about saying it. "Everyone."

"Huh?…That doesn't sound like you," Dr. Wilson said, his tone serious. "You don't have to quit, you know!"

House got one of the boxes and limped to the door with Dr. Wilson behind him.

"House, House!" Dr. Wilson shouted. "Is it really worth it to quit all of this?"

"Yeah, it is!" House snapped back, dropping his box. "For once, Cuddy won't have to worry about the shit I do. For once, you can relax without me being around being an ass and finally, you'll have Mr. Million Bucks here helping this hospital! Isn't that what everybody wants...?"

House regretted saying that last bit, he sat down with his bad leg thanking him to rest. He sighed shakily when he saw Dr. Wilson look motionless.

"Usually, you really don't give a damn about what people want," Dr. Wilson stated, calmly. "You only give a damn about what they need, right…?"

"Yeah, well," House's voice grew weak. His leg was throbbing, again. "This hospital doesn't need me…anymore."

"House," Dr. Wilson's voice turned stern. "We need you."

"You're gonna have to do better than that to keep me here," House said as he winced while he got up. He got his box again and opened the door to find Cuddy walking past. She saw the box in House's hand and she walked up to him.

"I thought I said no work?" Cuddy said, noticing House's pained expression he was hiding behind the box.

"I'm not doing any work," House said as he leaned his head against the box. "I…quit"

Cuddy's eyes went huge like as huge as House's eyes could go.

"Wh-What?" Cuddy stuttered.

"I don't see you dancing around with joy," House said as he peeked from behind the box which suddenly became heavy. His bad leg gave in, it gave out a huge jab of familiar pain causing House to double over and let the things fly out of the box at Cuddy's feet.

House was on the floor in agony, he couldn't keep it back anymore as he held his thigh. He looked at Cuddy with pain written on his face, almost begging. Cuddy called for nurses to get a bed. In minutes, he was in a bed again. He moaned at the cords again, they were annoying him. His leg was killing him even if he moved it a little. He gave out short breaths of air.

He noticed a nurse walked up to him with a syringe in hand.

"No, no," House gasped, trying to fight back the pain. "No morphine…I'm fine…"

The nurse paused at House, nodded and walked out of the room. Crap, she's talking to Cuddy who happened to be there. He sighed deeply as Cuddy walked into his room.

"You're in pain," Cuddy said, shooting daggers with her glare. "And you're not doing a very good job of hiding it."

"Found out what is making my leg hurt like hell?" House asked Cuddy who moved from the foot of the bed to right next to House. He looked at her, curiously.

"Stress."

"You're kidding me." House was not amused.

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" Cuddy asked, her look then turned serious. " You're having a vacation whether you like it or not."

"And what am I gonna do?" House shot back. "Drown myself in alcohol at night, and play on my piano? Let me stay at the hospital as a vacation."

Which in other words, meant he wanted to stay and work.

"I thought that you said you quit?" Realization hit House, he had forgotten that. He looked at Cuddy, she was going to say more.

"So what are you going to do when you go home?" Cuddy began. "Drown yourself in alcohol at night, and play on your piano?"

Cuddy had House trapped in a corner, she noticed that he was wincing in pain while clutching onto his thigh. It looked bad.

Cuddy went over to a drawer and got a syringe out that had morphine in it. She walked to the cords and got one that was in House. Just before she got the syringe in there, a hand came out and grabbed her wrist from going any further.

"No,…" House said, hoarsely. "No morphine."

"House," Cuddy said, her voice growing strict. "Let me go and give you some."

"No," House didn't let go of Cuddy's wrist, he wasn't going to let her just give him morphine freely.

"Is this a way to get back at yourself?" Cuddy said, somewhat concerned. "By torturing yourself with pain? What's that going to teach you, House?"

Cuddy could see that House was absorbing what she just said, House's hand slowly loosened it's grip around Cuddy's wrist and he let go of her. His hand fell onto the bed, he looked away from Cuddy. When Cuddy finished with the morphine she tossed the syringe in the bin and turned back to face him.

"You gonna be okay now here by yourself?" Cuddy asked House who raised his eyes at her.

"Yeah, I'm used to being alone." House said, sinking back down into the pillow. "Don't…worry about me."

"Okay, if you say so." Cuddy left the room to see if she could find either one of his team mates to keep him company for a while. She couldn't tell if House wanted to stay or go after that conversation.

She went back to her office and looked at the paperwork on her desk, she looked at one, thought for a while and then put it back on her desk. Cuddy sighed deeply and leant back on her chair.

She couldn't concentrate.


	4. Weak heart

Chapter 4: Weak heart

House stared at the ceiling above him.

Stress caused this, huh? He thought it was nuts. He didn't want to believe it. It just had to be something else.

He looked through the glass wall of his room and saw all of the nurses out there. No sign of Chase, Cameron, Foreman, Cuddy or even Dr. Wilson. He sighed and then heard the door open, he tensed up. Who could that be?

Crap. It's Vogler. Lovely timing.

_What could he possibly want to talk about? _House thought, his mind running with a million thoughts.

"Gregory House," He began. "I heard that you quit, is that true?"

"Yeah," House replied gruffly.

"Why?" Vogler asked.

House rolled his eyes. Surely, he could've asked Dr. Wilson or Cuddy. He was really tempted to get away from Vogler.

"Okay then," Vogler said since he got no response. "What about not taking your Vicodin?"

"Why do you even care!" House retorted, angrily. He jerked his leg unexpectedly and his hand went flying to it. His breathing became laboured.

The monitor next to him began to beep faster, Vogler grew alarmed. He went over to the monitor, it showed that his heart was beating fast. Way too fast.

House noticed that Vogler was going to get Cuddy, he didn't want Cuddy to get distracted from her work again. Vogler was about to get someone when House clutched onto his sleeve from behind. His breathing hard and shallow.

"Don't…get Cuddy," House said, Vogler nodded and pried House's hand off his sleeve and ran to find anyone except Cuddy. With House's heart beating so fast, it started slowed down. House sighed, maybe he should've held onto Vogler longer. He looked at the monitor, his heart beat was too low. Shit. What the hell is going on inside him! He carefully laid back onto the bed, his world going black.

"Get the paddles!" Dr. Wilson yelled at the doctors when he reached House's room. He ran to House's side.

"House! Goddamn it!" Dr. Wilson got the paddles and placed them on House's chest.

Foreman, Chase and Cameron noticed that there were nurses running to where House's room was. By the time they got there, they saw House with his heart beat normal and a relieved Dr. Wilson next to him with paddles in his hands.

A few hours later, House woke up to find Dr. Wilson next to the bedside, sleeping in a chair. He looked at the clock, 10:21pm. Okay, shouldn't Wilson be at home, tucked in bed? And won't the Beast be mad?

He poked Dr. Wilson in the face. No response. House poked again, even harder into his cheek.

"Wake up," House said, his voice hoarse. He gave up after a few pokes.

Maybe glaring at him will work, his glares are always intimidating. He gave up when he noticed that Dr. Wilson was not going to budge.

He looked at to what he was attached up to. He figured that if he didn't take the IV line out, he wouldn't get into as much trouble as just trying to get away. So he pushed the sheets off and got out of bed quietly along with the pole. The bed made a creak. House muttered a little "Shit." and peeked to see if he had woken Dr. Wilson. Turns out that Dr. Wilson must be a deep sleeper. House went off to sneak around the hospital just for the sake of it, he wanted to make sure that his leg was going to get any better or any worse. He used the pole as support.

The halls were empty, House found himself walking past his office and made it to Cuddy's office. The light was on. What could she be doing here this late? House peeked through the door frame, he could see a huge mess on Cuddy's table and her chair with its back faced to him. House let himself in and tried his best not to make any noise. His leg was doing okay so far.

He reached to Cuddy's desk, all the paperwork scattered out on the desk. Funny, he thought that Cuddy was somewhat an organised person. His eyes then moved to the chair. He found Cuddy there sleeping with her hair in a mess. That's what a long day can do to you. House noticed there was a string of hair covering her eyes, he moved them out of the way and placed it behind her ear. He frowned when he realized why she was here so late. It was because of him. All this trouble with him, and she didn't have time to do through her paperwork so she had to do them late at night. He sighed and left the office, swiftly.

He saw that Dr. Wilson was still there in the room, sleeping in his chair. A small smile appeared on House's face as he crawled back into bed. Good ol' Wilson.

House leant back onto the bed, unsure if he should still leave or not. He stared at the ceiling once again.

Oh well. As they say, tomorrow's another day.


	5. Choices

Sorry this is so late... I kinda left it for a while since I was stuck on where to go. After I watched House MD "Three Stories", it got me writing again. :)

Chapter Five: Choices

Rain was continuously hitting the window outside the office. Cameron walked into the office with her umbrella. She noticed that she wasn't the only one who was a little soaked, Chase and Foreman were also a little wet from the rain. She placed her umbrella against a chair.

Cameron sat down at the table with Chase and Foreman. Cameron sipped from her coffee, it was eerily quiet without House. Chase was about to say something to Cameron when all of the sudden, the door swung open and a cheerful House limped to the whiteboard.

"Hello, soaked people!"

He stopped to scan their faces. They were shocked at House's presence.

"Do you know what's going to happen when Cuddy finds you here?" Foreman asked, his tone getting serious. "Without your IV line?"

"Yeah," House said, grabbing the black marker. "Hopefully, the minimal damage will be her fuming and restraining me to the bed, so we got a case yet?"

Foreman sighed and looked at Cameron who looked at Chase. Chase looked at House who continued to glance, expectantly at him with his big eyes.

"We hadn't had one since you got sick," Chase explained, rubbing his forehead. "Vogler's got them."

There was a long silence.

"Oh," House said, his eyes shifted to the ground. He thought back to yesterday. If Vogler hadn't being there and got Wilson, he wouldn't be standing here. He shoved that thought away, just the one reason to be nice to him.

"We'll make up our own!" House continued, taking the top of the marker off. He paused, dead in tracks. This alarmed the ducklings.

"…That…" House clutched onto his leg in agony. "…f…"

"House!" Cuddy shouted as she ran into the office. Her tone was more stern than worried, House saw her and grinned in a sheepish way.

Cuddy got House by the arm and dragged him out, House grabbed his cane along the way.

"Sorry," She said to the ducklings who looked at each other. She scowled at House who stumbled to keep up with her.

When they got outside the office into the hallway, Cuddy glared at House who mumbled and shook imaginary dirt off his suit.

"Leg's fine," House said, staring at Cuddy.

"No, it's not." Cuddy said, her voice raising. "Don't lie, House."

"Okay," House said, putting on a thinking face. " What time did you go home last night?"

"I go home at the usual time," Cuddy answered, puzzled at what House was cooking up. "Why?"

"And you tell me not to lie," House muttered. Cuddy looked at House, her eyebrows furrowed .

"You lied," House said, matter-of-factly. "You stayed here doing your paperwork at night, I saw you and you looked pretty exhausted."

House's eyes then fell to the floor. "Because of me."

Cuddy paused and looked away from House, this caught House's attention.

"Damn it, Cuddy," House said, his voice turning hoarse. " Don't worry about…"

House started coughing. Cuddy grew increasingly alarmed, she noticed that the cough started to go away. House groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is your neck sore?" Cuddy asked, his face written with worry.

"Uh, no," House answered back, his voice still a bit hoarse. "Nothing's sore."

Cuddy glared at House who did the same.

"I'm going for a walk," House said as he limped down the hall, biting his lip from the pain.

"Fine," Cuddy replied, throwing her hands up in surrender. She was sick of chasing after House.

House rolled his eyes. About time, Cuddy really needed to dig into all of that paperwork on her desk.

The door to the clinic opened, House peered in. Packed with patients as usual. No sign of Wilson.

He felt a tug at his pants, his eyes fell to a 6 year old kid who looked as if she had been crying for the last few minutes.

"I can't find my parents," The child said with a sniff. Her eyes red from the tears.

"Didn't mommy tell you not to talk to strangers?" House asked, looking around for any sight of Dr. Wilson.

There was a long silence then there was a loud wail from the child. The child sat on the ground, wailing even more louder.

House kicked himself mentally. Finally, Dr. Wilson came up and looked at House, then the wailing child.

"What did you do?" Dr. Wilson mouthed to House. House responded with shrug.

Dr. Wilson and a couple of nurses managed to calm the 6 year old down. Dr. Wilson shot a glance at House and dragged him away.

"What are you doing out of your bed, House?" Dr. Wilson asked, letting go of House. "You look like crap."

"I look like crap because I haven't got my Vicodin," House replied, with his hands out.

"You haven't asked for Vicodin since what," Dr. Wilson said, scoffing a bit. "Since you got sick?"

"I'm not sick," House mumbled. "I just got a bum leg, do I have to go down on knees and beg for my Vicodin?"

"I haven't got it," Dr. Wilson said, with his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, Cuddy's got them."

_Just perfect..._,House thought, defeated.

Their attention was disturbed by Dr. Wilson's pager going off.

"I gotta go," Dr. Wilson said before he hurried off down the hall. "Good luck with Cuddy."

"What...," House sighed, he had enough of Cuddy as it is. He remembered that he left some Vicodin at home, he looked outside. It was raining, just wonderful.

House headed outside into the pouring rain. Cameron noticed that House was outside and her expression turned worried.

Rain soaked his clothes and made their way through his hair and down his face. It would probably look as if he was crying. Suddenly, there wasn't any more rain hitting him, an umbrella was covering him. He turned to see who was holding it.

Cameron.

"What... are you doing?" House said, his tone turning harsh. Maybe a little more harsh than he intended.

"I should be asking you that question...," Cameron admitted, nervously. She didn't want to make him mad.

"I suppose you want me to come in?" House sighed after a pause.

Cameron gave a nervous nod at House, who rubbed his eyebrows and sighed with a little tint of frustration.

He gave in to Cameron and followed her back inside. He went back to his office to find a change of clothes.

Cameron came back into the office and found Foreman and Chase staring at her and then at House in his office.

"What...happened?" Foreman asked, his face looking puzzled. "He tried to run away?"

"Yeah," Cameron replied with a sigh as she placed her wet umbrella against a chair, again.

"Well, did you try getting anything out of him?" Chase glanced at Foreman and Cameron.

"Tried," Cameron answered Chase. " He wouldn't say anything."

"Deaf and mute," Foreman sat on a chair. "That's House."

Foreman turned his glance to outside the glass walls. House went past in different clothes.

"Hey, hey, hey," Foreman said, instantly grabbing everyone's attention to the fullest. "House's left again,"

House limped past the nurses, his leg crying out in pain.

"Cuddy's got my precious Vicodin...," House muttered to himself quietly, his eyes narrowed. "If I can't get it from home, I might as well steal it..."

House instantly thought of Foreman. Good thing that Foreman was right behind him.

"Oh, there you are," House said, he caught Foreman by the arm and dragged him along. "Need you."

"Whoa, whoa," Foreman stopped dead in tracks along with House. "What for?"

"Emergency," House simply stated and tugged at Foreman's arm to keep going.

"Emerge-," Foreman's face went from confused to angry. " I'm not going to get the Vicodin for you,"

House turned to face Foreman, his leg gave a sharp jab. Foreman saw House wince from the pain.

Foreman sighed disgustedly and avoided eye contact with House.

"I did it once because you were going to kill a patient if you kept going," Foreman told House. " Why am I going to do it again and risk my licence?"

"Besides," Foreman added, looking at House with a worried expression. "You should really be in bed,"

House glared at Foreman.

"Gotta go and pee," House said before limping down the hallway and disappeared out of Foreman's sight.

"But the men's room is...there," Foreman sighed as he turned to go back to the office.

House made it to Cuddy's office. It was empty which means that Cuddy's wandering around the hospital. House jumped at the chance to search for his beloved Vicodin. He opened the door and slipped in. He went straight to Cuddy's desk and started checking the drawers.

He stared at the bottom drawer which required him to get on his knees. He lowered his cane and slowly got onto his knees. Biting back on his lip from the pain, he looked at the last drawer. It was empty. Where could have she hidden it? Sneaky Cuddy. The door opened and slammed which caused House to jump out of his skin.

He peeked from the desk and saw Cuddy chatting to some person in a suit. It wasn't Vogler. House quietly hid behind the curtains, nearly knocking over a ton of paperwork. He cursed to himself as he backed up behind the curtain with his cane. Just one paper fell off the pile and landed onto the floor. Not that she'd instantly notice it since there was bits of paper everywhere in her office.

He couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation until he realized that the person had left. Cuddy sighed sharply and went over to her desk to look at the paperwork there. She sat down and picked up the phone from the hook.

"I'd appreciate it if you could not eavesdrop on this conversation, House." Cuddy said, resting the phone on her shoulder.

House emerged from the curtains, staring at her.

"You have eyes at the back of your head, do you?" House asked Cuddy who spun the chair around and looked at him.

"No, apparently the guy just then saw you hide behind the curtains," Cuddy replied with an unsettling smile.

"Vicodin," House said with his hand out. "I know you have it."

"I'd rather you get yourself back on the IV line," Cuddy replied, looking at House who dropped his hand. " Maybe you can beat this addiction and manage pain some other way."

House paused, thinking about that.

"No," House replied, his glare shooting daggers at Cuddy. "I'd prefer taking Vicodin, I like it."

"Say," Cuddy said, handing House a file. " Do this and I'll give you your Vicodin back, okay?"

"What do I have to do?" House said, taking the file. He took a quick glance at the file.

"She's in a similar position you were a couple of years ago," Cuddy explained to House. " We just haven't told her options about her leg."

"What's wrong with her doctor telling her?" House asked Cuddy.

"He's sick." Cuddy responded with her hand resting under her chin. "Oh, and Dr. Wilson said that you'll see a familiar face in there."

House scoffed and limped to the door.

"If I do this, you'll give my Vicodin back, right?" House asked, with frustration taking over his voice.

"Deal." Cuddy replied and her eyes fell to her paperwork when House left her office with the file.

House was standing outside the woman's room with the file in hand. He sighed and tried to block out a scene that was replaying in his head.

He went in and found the kid that was wailing outside of the clinic sitting next to the bed. Familiar face, huh? The woman who was there whispered to her daughter to leave to room. The girl walked past House and left the room. House swallowed his throat dry.

"I'm Gregory House," He said, limping to the bedside. "Your doctor isn't here so I'll have to spill the news."

The woman tensed up and looked at House, positively waiting for the news.

"You're having a surgery soon, aren't you?" House asked the woman who nodded. _God, _House thought, irritated. _Why couldn't they just tell her about the leg then?_

"Well, when you're having the surgery," House said, emotionless. "They may have to amputate your leg."

The woman stared at House, tears fell down her cheeks.

"Do they have to?" The woman asked House who stared at her file.

"It depends," House replied with a sigh. "If you want them to."

"I have a choice...?" The woman asked, again.

"Yeah," House answered, avoiding eye contact. He turned to limp back to the door, let her decide.

"What should I do?" The woman asked, almost frantic. "What's the right thing to do, Dr. House?"

House stopped, suddenly. It all came back to him.

_House is in a hospital bed with Stacy beside him._

_"Would you give up your leg to save my life?" Stacy asked House, who stared at her._

_"Of course I would." House replied with a scoff as if that was a silly question._

_"Then why do you think your life is worth less than mine?" Stacy shot back, sounding almost desperate. "If this were any other patient, what would you tell them to do?"_

_"I would say it's their choice." House replied, hoarsely._

_"Wha – not a chance! You'd browbeat them until they made the choice you knew was right." Stacy replied, her eyes getting watery. "You'd shove it in their face that it's just a damn leg!"_

_"You don't think you deserve to live? You don't think you deserve to be happy?" Stacy continued as she looked at House. House was getting teary, too. "Not let them cut off your leg?"_

_"I can't," House gasped as he shook his head against the pillow, his eyes still teary. "I can't, I'm sorry." _

House paused, he looked back at the woman who had tears down her cheek. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh.

He bit his lip, he was going to hate himself for saying this.

"...It's your choice."


	6. Lies

Chapter Six: Lies

House didn't go back to Cuddy's office for the Vicodin, instead he went back to sit in his office. He felt sick and he wasn't going to admit it anytime soon.

House noticed that there was a familiar doctor that went pass his office, heading towards the woman's room. It was the name of the doctor that does that woman's case, he saw it when he glanced at the file. His eyebrows furrowed with anger.

The door swung open with sudden force.

"You said he was sick!" House shouted at Cuddy, angrily. Little did he know, there were other people in the room. He grunted and stepped outside, waiting for them to finish.

Once they were finished, they left the room quickly from House. Cuddy sighed and let House come in.

"You lied," House snapped.

"You lied, too." Cuddy replied, calmly.

"…When?" House asked, confused. Cuddy shook her head in disappointment.

"Why did you lie?" House shook off Cuddy's response.

Cuddy sighed, she looked at House who was expecting a reply. "Well, you're getting your Vicodin, aren't you?"

"Don't change the subject," House retorted as he limped to her desk. "Why?"

"You don't need to know why, House." Cuddy answered back, her voice raising.

House glared at her and left the room, it wasn't over just yet. He was going to do anything to make her tick. He knew one thing that would do that - and it started with a "w".

He managed to find Vogler. "Hey," House said, cheerfully. "Can I borrow a case off you?"

Vogler looked at House and sighed empathetically.

"You're sick," That made House twitch. "And aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

House grabbed Vogler by the collar and pulled him in close. "Just give me a damn case."

Vogler pointed at his desk where there were a couple of files. House let go of Vogler and got one of them. He was just about to get out the door when Vogler stopped him.

"I thought you said you quit." Vogler asked, looking curious.

"After I finish something, I'll be gone before you know it." House snapped and paused for a moment. He faced the door.

"…Thanks…about the other day," House said gruffly before he disappeared with a case in hand.

Vogler sighed and picked up the phone from the hook.

When House made it to the office, Foreman was in his office and he looked agitated. Chase and Cameron were at the table. Chase looked bored while Cameron looked worried.

"House." That voice made him jump. House spun around and found Dr. Wilson with his hand out.

"I'm not giving it to you," House said, clutching onto it tighter with one hand. "I'm going to solve it."

"You shouldn't be working," Dr. Wilson stated. "I don't know what happened between you and Cuddy, but just…give it to me."

House stared at Dr. Wilson's hand and at the case in his hand. He paused for a bit and reluctantly put the case in Dr. Wilson's hand.

"Let go of it, House," Dr. Wilson said with a sigh as he saw that House's hand was still firmly gripped onto the case. It was the one thing to get Cuddy to tell him. Unless they have another roaring contest which he didn't feel like doing.

House let go and limped down the hallway, catching Dr. Wilson off guard.

"Hey," Dr. Wilson called out. "Where are you going?"

"You know who," Came House's reply.

Dr. Wilson knew that it would be Cuddy but he didn't like the sound of House so he followed without being noticed.

Dr. Wilson realized that House went to the pharmacist instead of Cuddy. He could see that House tried to get some Vicodin but the pharmacist said that they were out of it. House kept insisting for it while the pharmacist looked defeated. Dr. Wilson was about to step in when Cuddy came up to the desk. She leaded House to her office who still looked like crap.

_Maybe House was right, _Dr. Wilson thought. _Maybe it's just his bum leg…_

Back in the office, Vogler was there as well as Cuddy.

"Oops," House said, cynically as he noticed Cuddy's face. "Fine, charge me with assault."

"…What are you talking about?" Cuddy asked House and then looked at Vogler.

House raised his eyebrows, Vogler didn't tell Cuddy what he did? Wow.

"Okay, then," House said, scratching his head. "What is he doing here?"

"He called me," Cuddy said, looking at Vogler who nodded.

"I think that you should go back to bed," Vogler stated ever so calmly.

"Actually," House said, swinging his cane around. "I thought I quit, so I'll just be leaving… now."

House turned to leave the office.

"You're sick," Cuddy said, with no emotion what so ever. "Even if you quit, you're still a patient at this hospital whether you like it or not!"

"I'm not sick!" House shouted, turning around to Cuddy. "It's because I don't have my Vicodin!"

"Stop denying it, House!" Cuddy said who was clearly irritated. She glared at House. "Stop using your Vicodin as an excuse and just accept the fact that you're sick!"

House paused, he stared at the ground for a moment and looked at Cuddy.

"…So, what are you going to do?" House asked, spitefully. "Tie me to a bed and say that it's just stress, again? Do you still think it's stress?"

Cuddy looked doubtful, she wasn't sure what it was anymore. She wasn't sure if it was stress or just his leg.

"You're still sick," Cuddy concluded. House rolled his eyes which caused Cuddy to glare at him.

"I'm not staying here," House said, obviously still stubborn. He glanced at Vogler and then focused on Cuddy. "I'm going home."

"Fine, do that." Cuddy replied, shuffling some paperwork around. House stood there, watching her. "If it gets worse, you're coming back here in a second."

Cuddy turned around to put her paperwork somewhere else but her desk, House poked his tongue out at her like an 8 year old. He realized that Vogler was watching him and retreated his tongue as Cuddy turned back around again.

"You're still here," Cuddy said as she sighed. House put his hand out in front of Cuddy, catching her attention.

"Vicodin," House asked, his eyes pinning her down. "Did the deal."

Cuddy retrieved the Vicodin from her bag. Damn. So that's where she hid it. Cuddy tossed the container and it landed right in House's grip. It was full, just the way he left it. He placed it in his pocket and left the office.

House managed to leave the hospital without anyone catching him, he was sick of seeing the same people over and over again. He headed home in his Corvette.

"What?" Cameron shot at Foreman, baffled. "Cuddy let House go home?"

Foreman raised his hands in defeat. "That's what I heard." Was his reply.

Chase just fumbled with the pen he was holding, his eyes shifted to the whiteboard.

House closed the door behind him, he took his jacket off, tossed it on the couch and limped into the kitchen. There was rummaging heard in the kitchen and a pause. House stared at his jacket and searched the pockets for a container. He looked at the Vicodin in his hand, screaming at him that he needed it. His thoughts travelled to the events over the last few days. House took the top of the container off.

Cuddy sat in her office and looked at the clock. It said 9.34pm. She sighed as she rested her hand on her forehead. Today was some hectic day. She looked at the paperwork spread out on her desk, she paused for a moment and grabbed her bag with her car keys and headed out of the hospital. She turned the alarm off on her car.

House sat at the kitchen table with his head down. The table had a empty glass and there was a bottle of whisky in his hand. It had only a little bit left. House tipped the rest in the glass and glanced at the bottle. He groaned as he got up slowly without his cane.

Cuddy was driving a little over the limit in the city, she glanced at the clock. 10:23pm, it showed her. She picked up the speed. The lights outside in the city going faster turning into a slight blur.

The alcohol was starting to have effect on House as he opened the 2nd bottle of whisky and went back to sit down. He poured more whisky into the glass and placed the bottle on the table next to him. His face was getting sweaty as he sighed, shakily.

Cuddy stopped at the apartment, she got out of her car and quickly glanced at the clock. It said 10:48pm. She walked up the stairs quickly and quietly so she couldn't disturb the neighbours sleeping.

House turned the music on and took another swig at the glass. He blinked slowly, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and stared at his leg. A little smile appeared on his face. He didn't need to take Vicodin anymore, his leg was numb. Mission accomplished.

Cuddy hoped she wasn't too late, she knocked on House's door. House noticed the knocking and stumbled towards the door after he turned off the music. He opened the door and found Cuddy looking at him. There was a long pause when Cuddy realized that there was a glass in House's hand.

She sighed rashly and invited herself in, she went into the kitchen and came back out to see House leaning against the couch, staring blankly at her. He was about to take another drink of the whisky when all of the sudden, the glass disappeared from his hand. He stared at his empty hand and looked at Cuddy, dazed.

"I…think you had enough for one night, Greg," Cuddy stated, looking at him concerned.

House stared at her, he took a quick sigh. The sweat still going.

"Alright, alright," House slurred, trying to stand up. "You win."

"Win what?" Cuddy asked, confused as she walked up to House.

"I'm sick," House mumbled, his eyes red from the alcohol. "Are you happy now?"

Cuddy was speechless for a moment. She brought herself together to speak.

"Is your leg hurting really bad?" Cuddy asked House who looked at her as if she had dunked her head in the toilet and asked if she was wet. She noticed he was sweating.

"No, it feels numb," House replied, still slurring a bit. "I feel sick as in throwing up."

"You gonna take me to the hospital?" House asked as Cuddy disappeared to find a bucket. "You keep saying that a lot lately."

Cuddy managed to find a bucket and walked into the kitchen. She found an empty orange container on the table, her eyebrows furrowed with anger. She raced up to House with the container in her hand. She got in close to House even though his breath reeked of alcohol.

"Are you trying to overdose yourself now?" Cuddy whispered, her tone meant serious business. House mumbled something incoherently and moved away from her, she pulled at House's arm to stay there. House looked at her, blankly.

"House," Cuddy said in a low tone. "Tell me the truth."

"If I had overdosed on the whole container of Vicodin," House replied, the slurring still there. "Would I still be standing here?"

Cuddy glared at House. She knew he wouldn't just throw the whole heap down the drain.

"Okay, maybe I took one," He looked at her, her glare still strong. "Two."

He looked at her arm that was strongly clutched around his arm so he wouldn't get away. He looked back at Cuddy.

"Eight." House said as he scratched his head. "Not all at once."

House glanced at Cuddy, her expression still the same.

"Fine, I took twelve all at once," House stared at her, his tone had brutal honesty with it. "The rest went in the bin, you can count them in you want to."

Cuddy's hand went flying across the back of House's head, he glared at her as he rubbed the back of his head.

"That hurt," House mumbled as he grabbed the bucket from her.

"How long ago did you take them?" Cuddy demanded, with her arms folded.

"Um," House said, thoughtfully. "When I finished the 1st bottle."

The glare had returned, House rolled his eyes with disgust.

"When I started the 1st bottle," House corrected himself. He could see that Cuddy was looking really stressed.

After a while, they got into the car and were on their way to the hospital. House had the bucket between his knees and was looking at Cuddy who continued to look panicked. He was about to say something when suddenly, Cuddy pulled over to the side of the road. She turned the car off and began to sob, quietly against the steering wheel. Her shoulders shook along with her quiet gasps.

House glanced down at the bucket. He looked back at her, the sobs quietened down. Cuddy slowly started the car and went back on route. Surely, House thought that she was trying to make him feel bad. Well, if she was, it was working.

"You're…not gonna let them pump my stomach, are you?" House asked, fumbling with the handle of the bucket. The sweating was getting worse and his vision began to blur as they stopped at an intersection. The streets were empty. There was an uneasy silence floating in the car. There was no answer from Cuddy.

In the distance, a truck roared past them. The intersection showed a green light. There was no movement in Cuddy's car. House was sick of the silence, he shoved the door open and got out even though his head was spinning. He forgot that he didn't have his cane and fell face flat onto the road. Cuddy snapped up from the steering wheel and realized that House was nowhere to be found. Until a hand appeared on the passenger seat and House pulled himself up, back on the seat. He closed the car door and glanced at Cuddy who looked relieved.

"You want me to drive?" House asked, holding onto his head. It wouldn't stop spinning.

"I'll be fine and you're not in any condition to drive, mister," Cuddy replied and started driving the car again. House noticed the bucket on the bottom of the passenger seat.

"Shit."

"What is it?" Cuddy asked him, her eyes on the road.

"The…bucket kinda spilled…" House muttered, looking outside the window. "I'll clean it up when I get better…"

"Don't worry about it, House." Cuddy said with a sigh. House was continuing to sweat which alarmed Cuddy. "Just stay awake, okay?"

There was a short silence in the car. They weren't too far from the hospital now.

"…Sorry…," Came a mumble from the passenger seat. Cuddy looked at House who was staring at her. "…About…everything…"

House's eyes began to droop a bit, he tried to stay awake. Cuddy pulled into the hospital entrance, stopped the car and glanced at House. She got out and helped House get out of the car. They managed to get inside the hospital.

House felt bad about lying to Cuddy earlier about how much Vicodin he had taken but it's a fact that…

Everybody lies.


	7. Life is precious

- Sorry that this chapter is here so late and a bit short... I didn't feel like working on it for a while - but now, I do!

Chapter Seven: Life is precious

Cuddy woke up the next morning and found herself in her office. The previous events flashed through her mind over and over again. Her thoughts travelled to House who was probably sound asleep in the hospital bed. Her office was still a wreck, she got up and straighten her top and headed towards the door. She bumped a small pile of paper over and bent down to put it back on the table. As she got back up, her head was buried in someone's clothes. Cuddy jumped and saw House standing there in the way. When did he get in there? And why isn't he in bed? Wilson probably let him out.

"I think we need to talk," House said, recognizing that Cuddy looked like a mess just like her office.

"I'm busy," Cuddy replied as she scuffed past House and left the office. She didn't want to deal with him, now.

"Fine," House continued even though no one was there. "I'll just be lurking in your office."

House sat on the couch and examined the paper work spread out everywhere.

A few hours passed and House was still there. He stared at his watch, this wasn't like him to be this patient. He sighed as he remembered the conversation earlier this morning with Dr. Wilson.

"_What do you want me to do?" House asked, staring at Dr. Wilson. "Apologise to Cuddy again?"_

"_Well, that's a good idea but you can start by telling the truth." Dr. Wilson replied, his expression grim._

_House scoffed and glanced at Dr. Wilson. "What are you talking about?"_

"_You told Cuddy that you only took 12 and thrown the rest in the bin," Dr. Wilson explained. "Either the others have vanished in thin air or you took them as well,"_

_By now, House was in a cold sweat. He was caught, red-handed._

"_Okay, so maybe I took more than I planned to," House answered, fumbling with the sheets on his bed._

"_House," Dr. Wilson said as he moved in closer to him. "Did you really want to kill yourself?"_

"_Please," House replied, his voice all shaky. "Don't go all "shrink" on me now. I hate that."_

"_Answer me, House," Dr. Wilson said, his tone stern and a hint of worry for his friend. "Did you?"_

_  
House looked at him, he wanted to tell him everything. House avoided eye contact but it was too late. Dr. Wilson saw it, the despair in his eyes._

_Later on, Dr. Wilson let House out of the hospital bed but is only to stay in the hospital so he can meet the psychiatric consult later on in the day._

The door to Cuddy's office opened, it grabbed House's attention as he lifted his head to see who it was. Cuddy's back and she didn't look all that happy. Does she ever.

"You-and-me time, now." House said as he got up and watched Cuddy head towards her desk.

"I thought you'd be gone by now," Cuddy said as she sat herself down.

"Oh, I can't leave the hospital just yet," House replied, swinging his cane around for the sake of it. "Got to meet the shrink." He emphasized the word "shrink".

"So I heard," Cuddy said as her attention was drawn away from House and focused on her paperwork. House glanced around her office once again.

"Okay, I already apologised earlier so I guess I'll say it again?" House said, looking at Cuddy. God, her hair was an absolute mess. She glanced at House and placed her pen down on the table, got up and went right up to his face.

"Don't bother," Cuddy whispered in a low tone. " Nothing's going to change the fact that you overdosed on a whole container of Vicodin and survived. Do you know that you could've died, House?"

"Not that anybody would actually care," House shrugged. "Everybody's better off without me."

"Don't…say that," Cuddy shot back. "Don't say that nobody cares, we care about you. Life is precious and you of all people should know that."

"Do you care?" House asked, with a tone of surprise. "Because I get the feeling that you hate my guts right now. So, would you care if I got hit by a bus tomorrow?"

"Quite frankly, I don't give a damn what happens to you right now."

She headed back to her desk, not realizing that House was gasping for breath and fell flat on the floor.

"Nice try, House." Cuddy said as she heard gasps from in the front of her desk. The gasps wouldn't stop after a while and panic seized her. She raced around to the front of her desk and found House laying on his stomach, struggling to breathe. He was turning pale. Cuddy got on her knees and dragged House onto his back.

"House, wake up!" Cuddy said, her face stiffened with the look of horror. "House!"

House had his eyes closed and Cuddy grabbed the phone off the hook, her hand shaking out of control. She was about to call for help when she heard a light chuckle from below. She looked at House who had half a smile on his face.

"And you said that you wouldn't care if I died." House remarked.

Cuddy dropped the phone and stared at House in disbelief.

House closed the door to her office and saw Dr. Wilson walking past. Dr. Wilson stopped dead in his tracks and looked at House again.

"Whoa, what happened to your cheek?" Dr. Wilson said, acknowledging the red mark that had a shape of a hand imprinted on House's face.

"That's what happens when you play dead on a certain someone who shall remain unnamed." House replied. A little smile appeared on his face after Dr. Wilson left. He headed off to meet the psychiatric consult.

Cuddy was right.

Life is precious

…in its own little ways.


	8. Mistake

- Oh, no. The story is still going. By the way, this chapter and the last are still on the same day…

Chapter Eight: Mistake

House decided to lurk around the hospital after he went to visit the psychiatric consult. He was sitting in a clinic room with the daughter who belonged to the mother. The one who's having a surgery. House was playing his Gameboy while the daughter looked around the room, full of curiosity.

"Mummy said that she made up her mind," The daughter said to House who tried to ignore her and continued to play his game.

"Right," House replied, with no interest whatsoever. After a while, he closed the Gameboy screen.

"What are you doing here?" The daughter asked, out of curiosity. "Don't you have to do grown up stuff?"

"Yeah," House grabbed his cane and stood up. "I got to go and do grown up stuff."

House left the clinic room and found his way to Cuddy's office, he let himself in as usual.

"I didn't think I'd ever say this but…," House said, holding out an open hand. "I've come to sign the resignation form. Gimme."

Cuddy stared at him and got the form out for House to sign, he limped over and sat in her chair. She handed him a pen, shakily. House snatched it and put his pen an inch away from the paper, then Cuddy's breathing were rapid. A little smile appeared on his face, here it comes.

"You don't want me to resign, do you?" House said to Cuddy who instantly snapped back to reality.

"It's just that you're a really good doctor," Cuddy explained, grasping a piece of her hair and tugged it behind her ear. She folded her arms. "It'd be a shame to see that career go to waste."

"No, the other reason." House replied, staring at her.

"What other reason?" Cuddy asked, slightly irritated. "What are you implying, House?"

"Okay, let me put it this way," House said, scratching his head. "A male and female feeling attracted each other, saying three special words…" House got up when he noticed Cuddy was glaring at him, he made his way to the door with Cuddy hot on his tail.

"… hop into bed and do stuff to each other," House continued. "Oh hey, I know! Why don't I bring a teddy bear and some flowers to…"

Cuddy slammed the door in House's face.

"…spice things up…" House finished with a sigh.

"I didn't think teddy bears were her thing anyway."

It was few hours later. Cameron, Chase and Foreman were sitting in the office, bored out of their minds. Chase fiddled with a pen mindlessly, Foreman looked over the sheets in his folder and Cameron just looked worried.

"Bet you $20 that House walks in here," Foreman whispered to Chase who looked intrigued by the bet.

"Okay, you're on." Chase said, sitting back on his chair. He was feeling confident since House hasn't shown up over the last few hours.

The door swung open and guess who it was.

"20 dollars," Foreman said, rubbing his fingers at Chase who pouted and fished out the money out of his wallet.

"Does Cuddy know you're here?" Cameron asked House who swung his cane around.

"Yeah, who thinks she's turning into some kind of stalker?" House said as he saw Cuddy walking past the office, she sent glares at House. Cameron's expression was doubt.

House gasped incredulously at Foreman which caught his attention.

"Foreman," House said, in disbelief. "Chase is touching you on the arm… I didn't know you felt about him that way…"

Foreman immediately yanked his arm out of the way in total disgust. Chase looked at Foreman and House, clueless.

"See," House said to Cameron. "Foreman agrees with me."

Foreman realized that his arm was half way in the air and put it down as he glared at House who was about to leave the room.

"Whoa, where are you going?" Foreman asked, his tone alert.

"To bug Wilson," House said before he left the office and disappeared out of sight.

House lurked outside Wilson's office. Hm, funny. He doesn't have a patient in, and why he looks so gloomy?

"Hey," Dr. Wilson looked up to see who it was, he avoided eye contact with House after that.

House sighed and took a seat, he stared at Wilson.

"Cuddy said something, didn't she?" House had to guess.

Wilson paused for a while, he glanced at House, unsure whether he should tell him.

"Cuddy…," Wilson paused again, holding his hands nervously. "… told me something about you…"

"Like what?" House asked, his patience wearing thin.

"You never told me that…," Wilson murmured. "… you were diagnosed with depression."

"That was a million years ago," House shrugged it off. "It's ancient."

"House," Wilson said, sternly as he leaned in towards his close friend. "All these years, and you never told me? This is serious."

House looked at Wilson, his forehead wrinkling. It looks as if Wilson still had more to say.

"She… also told me that you were admitted to a psychologist," Wilson added quickly. "It was in the file."

"Again, it was ages ago." House replied, still shrugging it off.

Wilson saw a flicker of it in House's eyes as he got up, that same look of despair when he asked him if he really wanted to kill himself. House was about to leave the room, until Wilson sprang into action and stood in front of the door to stop House from getting any further.

"You're not telling me something," Wilson said, his tone serious while worry was painted on his face. " Why won't you tell me?"

"It's…_stupid._" House muttered as he scratched his head. "How about I tell you tomorrow? I just want to go to bed right now."

Dr. Wilson wasn't sure if he'd want House to go home alone. Especially since he overdosed.

"I'm not going to do anything dumb." House said, reading Wilson's mind. "I don't have any Vicodin on me anyway." Like that would make Wilson feel any better.

Dr. Wilson spaced out as House poked him with his cane.

"You going to let me go home or not?" He asked, his patience wearing thin.

Dr. Wilson glanced at House and the door. He feared that he would be making a mistake.

After shuffling aside, House put his hand on the door knob.

He feared he would be making one big mistake.


	9. Truth

Chapter 9: Truth

House staggered. Blurry vision. Sweat pouring down his face. Arrived at intersection. Crosswalk clear, ready to go. House took a couple of uneasy steps. Vision getting worse. Unable to catch breath. Crosswalk isn't clear, a loud honk from the right. Impact. Cane gone flying. Head connects ground. Stars of different colours. Darkness

fills in. Everything's black.

Cuddy signed herself in when Cameron with Chase behind her dashed up to her, catching her breath as she stopped.

"It's…," Cameron started but trailed off.

"…House." Chase finished for her with a sigh.

Cuddy's eyes narrowed. What did House get into this time? She stormed to the emergency room where she found House sitting in a chair with an ice bag to his head. House could hear those footsteps that belonged to high heels, he looked up whilst taking the ice bag off his head.

"I got hit by a bus." Was all he said as he placed the ice bag back on his forehead. He thought it was funny since Cuddy said that she couldn't give a damn if he got hit by a bus yesterday.

A few moments later, Cuddy and House were in the examination room. Cuddy was checking out House's head injury which was a nasty bruise and cut from falling onto

the ground by impact. House kept insisting that he was fine but Cuddy resisted, angrily.

"House…!" Cuddy said, frustrated as she tried to fix House's cut. "Why do you keep being a pain in the ass with me?!"

"…Because?" Cuddy caught a whiff of his breath and that was all she needed.

"You've been drinking, haven't you…?" Cuddy asked House who pried her hands off him.

"Duh," House replied, curtly. "Isn't it obvious?"

"… Well, if you're not going to let me fix the wound up, will you let Wilson do it?" Cuddy asked as House paused and finally nodded. She went to the phone to call Dr. Wilson, he came over in a couple of minutes. Dr. Wilson was fixing up House's head wound, the room was dead silent.

"…Wilson," House broke the deafening silence. "…Yesterday, you wanted me to tell you that 'something', remember?"

Wilson nodded as he finished gently putting a bandaid on House's head.

"I think I'm ready…," House continued, looking at Wilson with that look of despair. "… to tell you."

Wilson got a stool and sat on it while he looked at House who was nervous.

"It was ages ago, when I was studying to become a doctor…," House began to tell his story.

_He walked down to the hospital after parking his car. House bumped into a girl with shoulder length light brown hair. She gasped and dropped her books in fright. House apologised and helped her get her books together. Her cheeks went red from embarrassment as she apologised as well. They exchanged glances until House noticed she was carrying medical books. House noticed her warm smile as they introduced each other._

_A couple of weeks later, a young House walked down the hallway to meet a patient he had been assigned to. He knocked on the door and was welcomed by a girl with shoulder length light brown hair - House knew who that was._

House sighed as memories came flooding back. "Her name is Kate."

_A few weeks later after getting to know each other more, House looked at the girl as she burst into tears._

"_I'm sorry I lied to you," Kate covered her eyes as she sobbed harder. House had found out what was wrong with her and why she was carrying medical books earlier.. "I- I…"_

"She had a brain tumour and turns out that it was inoperable." House told Wilson.

"_It's okay," House said, trying to find comforting words. "Everybody lies."_

_Kate looked up to House from her hands, confused. Was that supposed to make her feel better? A little smile appeared and she started giggling. House laughed dryly and sat down with her, embarrassed. _

"She only had a couple of weeks to live, and I tried to stay with her until the end," House said, his eyes looking blank. "…But a nurse told me that she passed away during the night."

Wilson glanced at House, unsure what to say.

_The young House stared at a photograph they took together during happy times. They had a copy each. He tried to hold back his tears as he stood before Kate's bed which was empty. He could remember her smile. He felt as though he could have done more._

"…Uh, yeah," House continued, "Guess you could say I got depressed because of that and…"

"That's why you rarely meet patients anymore…?" Wilson finished, softly. House nodded and closed his eyes. The memories continued flooding back.

_The young House yawned from barely getting any sleep, the dark rings around his eyes were obvious. As he walked down the hallway, he saw a girl with dark brown hair down to her shoulders walk past him. Her eyes were red from crying as she held a photograph in one hand. It occurred to House that she looked really familiar to Kate._

House opened his eyes and stood up, he'd forgot that he needed his cane to walk and went falling until Wilson caught him.

Wilson began to speak but trailed off as House regained balance as he got his cane.

"Well, that's all of it," House sighed. "Guess I'll see you later." He made his way out, leaving Wilson silent from what he just told him. The cancer doctor's eyes narrowed and rubbed his forehead.

A few hours later, House was back in the room next to his office, he was getting himself a glass of water as his head was killing him. He was about to sip the water until Wilson came in with a file. House turned to face Wilson who looked like he had run from the other side of the building. He had this speechless look as well.

"What?" House asked, irritated. "Do I have something on my face?"

"…It's not that," Wilson panted as he motioned the file. "I found lots of Kates that have been referred to this hospital but I found the Kate you treated…"

House stared at Wilson as he paused.

"And…?" House asked. Wilson looked at him then at the file.

"Did you, by any chance, read her file?" Wilson replied. House looked thoughtful.

"Not really, I just skimmed through it." House said as he raised the glass to his face.

"Put the glass down, House." Wilson said and House obeyed slowly as he was intrigued by Wilson's tone.

"Kate's last name is…" Wilson paused. He couldn't believe it himself as he spoke Kate's last name. "…Cuddy."

House's eyes widened as he looked at Wilson in disbelief. He grabbed the file from Wilson to see it for himself. He saw her surname. It was indeed, in capital letters, it spelt…

Cuddy.


	10. Photograph

Chapter 10: Photograph

House continued to stare at the file in utmost confusion. How could've he over-looked that? His hands trembled against the file as he remembered the young Cuddy walking down the hallway with tear stained eyes. He looked at Wilson who opened and closed his mouth with no words coming out.

"Stop that, Wilson," House said, dropping the file into Wilson's grasp. "You look like a fish who's on the verge of death."

Wilson stopped and saw that his friend was leaving the room. He didn't need to ask where he was going. It seemed obvious anyway.

House kept his eye out for Cuddy around the hospital, she wasn't in sight. He grumbled as he checked her office. Nope, not there. House scanned his surroundings and checked his watch. Midday, maybe she went to the cafeteria.

Down in the cafeteria, he saw Cameron sitting at the table with Chase and Foreman. Boy, did they look bored as hell. He walked up to them and tapped his cane against the table which caused a drink to fall over.

"House…!" Foreman exclaimed as he cleaned up his drink's mess and glared at his boss. "What are you doing?"

"Seen Cuddy?" The three looked at each other and then at House.

"She signed out not too long ago." Chase said, munching on a sandwich. "Said she wasn't feeling too well."

House looked around and then at the three again. "Seen Vogler?"

"I have no idea where he went," Foreman said as he looked at Cameron and Chase who nodded in agreement. "Rumour has it that he quit."

House raised his eyebrows. Did he really scare the shit out of that guy? He shook his head and left the three to eat their lunch. Foreman tossed his empty drink that House bumped, into the bin.

House slammed the door to his Corvette and headed towards an apartment. He found the door unlocked to the room he was looking for and walked in without knocking.

"Oh, House." Vogler's head popped up from the kitchen. "May I ask why you're here?"

"Judging from how crappy your apartment looks," House's cane pushed over piles of cans. "You lost a bit of money, didn't you?"

Vogler sighed. "Again, why are you here?"

"Rumours say you quit." House said as he walked closer to Vogler. "I wanted to see if it was true or not."

Vogler nodded and said yes as House rummaged through his bathroom cabinet.

"Hey, stay out of there!" Vogler exclaimed but stopped as House found a pill bottle.

"Anti-depressants, huh?" House said as he rattled the pill bottle. Barely used. "Did you get depressed because Daddy didn't remember you anymore?"

"Leave." Vogler glares at House. "Now."

"Oh, c'mon," House said as he walked to Vogler. "Don't get so worked up over such a little thing."

Vogler snatched the pill bottle from House and put it back.

"Oh, and would such a little thing be watching a patient die…," Vogler said as he exited the bathroom and stared at House's back that froze. "…of a brain tumour when you could've done something to prevent it?"

"…How'd you know…?" House said, quietly as he faced Vogler. His blue eyes throwing daggers.

"It just suddenly made me curious that you had one patient that you treated at the hospital and,…you didn't break any rules." Vogler explained.

"There wasn't any rules to break," House muttered, gripping onto his cane.

"Ah, … but you could've tried to shrink her tumour with medicine, gave her more time to live, " Vogler said, slyly. "Oh yes, you weren't exactly the rule-breaking type back then, were you?"

House glared at Vogler and lunged at him. Before Vogler could react, a fist connected to his face. Vogler staggered, held his cheek and looked at House who towered over him.

"If… I could do it again," House said, angrily. "I'd do those things, I'd do them over and over again! I don't need someone like you reminding me of how much I've **fucked up **back then!"

He raised his fist until he saw Vogler cower away in fear. House lowered his fist and raised an eyebrow at Vogler.

"Sorry," Vogler said, his face full of guilt. "I shouldn't have said that. I won't bother you anymore."

And with that, House felt satisfied and walked out. He stopped at the door.

"Hey, Mr. Empty Money Bags," House said as he twisted the door knob. "Get a new door knob."

House sat in his Corvette and started the engine. Time to see another person.

He stopped outside someone's apartment and knocked on the door with his cane.

"Yes, what do yo-" Cuddy didn't think she'd see House.

"I want to talk to you." House stared as she nodded and let House in. House turned to look at her as she closed to door.

"What is it?" Cuddy asked, folding her arms.

"I've noticed… you don't really smile much, do you?" House asked Cuddy who looked at him and her stern expression softened.

"I do smile," Cuddy said, walking past House into the kitchen. "It's just… today… isn't a good day for me."

"Who doesn't get bad days?" House asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

"Its not like that," House raised an eyebrow. Now he was dead curious as to what's up.

"It's the anniversary of my sister's death." Cuddy whispered. That hit House in the cold heart, making it crack. "Anyway, you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Well, yeah," House said, not know how to start. "I was treating a patient ages ago and it was aaages ago, like a million years ago. I met her before she was in the

hospital and she was looking at medical books. She was nice, and had this warm smile that would light up the gloomiest room… and she…"

"House, you're sugar coating what you're saying." Cuddy looked worried. "You never sugar coat things, you usually say it directly and bluntly."

"Uh, okay, if you want it blunt, I'll say give it blunt." House muttered as he leaned against her fridge. "I treated your sister in the hospital."

Cuddy's eyes widen in horror. She blinked several times, not knowing whether to scream or cry.

"I… tried to fix her," House said but trailed off as he saw Cuddy's blank expression. "Yeah, Wilson and me were like that too when we found out."

There was an awkward silence as Cuddy sat down on the couch, unable to wrap her head around it. House decided to sit down too.

"S-so you knew Kate?" Cuddy managed to ask House who looked at her.

"Yeah, a little too much. Guess you could say I got attached to her." House mumbled as he swung his cane around.

"But you never get attached to people." Cuddy replied.

"Before the leg thing and your sister, I'm not attached to people now," House said, still spinning the cane around.

"Wh-what… did Kate pass… peacefully?" Cuddy tried to say, tears dropping down her cheeks at the sweet memories of her sister.

"…Good question," House muttered, he stopped spinning the cane. "I was researching to find treatments for your sister and got the page… and.. I was too late…"

Cuddy looked at House, completely devastated.

"She died alone?" She gasped. "You weren't with her the whole time?!"

"I was trying to do my damn job," House grabbed Cuddy's arm and drew her close. His expression went from stern to almost heartbreakingly sad as he let go of Cuddy. "If I could, I would've been with her the whole time."

Cuddy was stumped, she'd never seen House look so incredibly sad before. Sure, there were times he looked miserable but not so miserable that he'd hang himself with his own cane.

"House,… have you been blaming yourself for Kate's death?" Cuddy asked, almost desperately.

House avoided eye contact with Cuddy. She closed her eyes, thinking _Oh god,… all these years, he's been beating himself up about Kate?_

House shuffled in his seat, he didn't like the topic now.

"Hm, think I could get more Vicodin?" House asked, out of the blue.

"Do you get high to numb yourself about Kate, House?" Damn, shouldn't have asked about Vicodin, House.

House stared at Cuddy, the slightest movement, eye contact, anything could give it away.

"You should be a fucking detective, Cuddy," House responded and stood up.

"House!" Cuddy's hand latched onto House's arm and locked there. "…please…"

He peered over his shoulder, looking at Cuddy.

"I moped about the leg… and yeah, most of it was your sister." He said, with no emotion in his voice.

Cuddy's eyes looked at House's, then everything clicked. Why he doesn't see patients, acts cold, breaks any rule possible to save the patient , his strong desire to solve the illness and find any treatment possible. It all made fucking sense. Her sister's death practically moulded House's character. Made him who he is today.

House yanked his arm free and headed to the door. Cuddy didn't stop him, she was too overwhelmed to realize he had left her apartment. He headed back to his office at the hospital and slumped in his chair after tossing his cane against the desk.

He paused for a moment, that scene in Cuddy's apartment flashing through his mind over and over again. Reaching for his desk, he pulled a drawer out, rummaged through it and recovered a photograph. He looked around his office, making sure the coast was clear.

It was a picture of Kate and him, with the big grins on their faces.

House remembered the time during the photo was taken…

And smiled.


End file.
